


You're So Small, and I'm So Proud

by Grayson1996



Series: Batman Bingo 2020 [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Alfred Pennyworth is a Saint, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, Dick Grayson is Batman, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heart Attacks, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25763056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grayson1996/pseuds/Grayson1996
Summary: Bruce is back from the timestream and Dick is doing everything he can to make his transition back smooth. Which would go easier if Bruce would actually talk to Damian and work on their relationship. To much stress causes Dick to collapse with what appears to be a heart attack. Leaving Bruce to realize just how much his son took on when he 'died' and just how much he's failed since coming back.
Series: Batman Bingo 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860874
Comments: 8
Kudos: 317





	You're So Small, and I'm So Proud

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of my Batman 2020 Bingo Series, the prompt is "You're so small." Also, I'm not a doctor, I did some research but am by no means an expert of Stress Cardiomyopathy.
> 
> Not super important but the ages are:
> 
> Dick - 28  
> Jason - 24  
> Tim- 18  
> Damian - 11

Not again.

This was the thought that crossed Dick Grayson’s mind as he watched his little brother Damian storm out of their Father’s study and down to the first floor. A fuming Bruce followed after him and shouted from the top of the staircase. After a moment the faint sound of the garden door slamming drifted its way upstairs indicating that Damian had made his escape onto the Manor grounds.

Unfortunately Dick was no stranger to this occurring, since Bruce had returned from being lost in the timestream both he and Dami spent more time screaming at one another than trying to get to know one another. No matter what Dick did, or how many times he was forced to play mediator, the two would not get along. Not that he hadn’t expected that, after all before Bruce’s disappearance Damian was a trained assassin with a superiority complex and a set of morals that were...lacking. But the two had worked closely together the year Bruce was gone, and Damian learned how to protect opposed to destroy. Had learned how to be empathetic rather than cruel. Dick had hoped Bruce would see all of his progress when returning but it was clear that hope had been in vain. Bruce, it seemed, didn’t have time for his son. Which left Dick in a precarious and overwhelming position.

Dick Grayson however was determined to get Bruce to see how much Damian grew. During the day while Dick accompanied Bruce to Wayne Industries and the two worked to transition Bruce back into the role of CEO, Dick would try to bolster Damian’s accomplishments at school or with his art. Both still went out at night as Batman and Dick would spend the whole night giving Robin orders and praying Bruce would notice how well he now listened. Even during meals Dick spent most of his energy trying to get the two to interact but it never worked.

Bruce was distant, Damian was angry, and Dick was stressed. Not to mention there had been a small but persistent ache radiating from his chest ever since Bruce returned that he couldn’t seem to shake.

A small noise snapped Dick from his musings and looking up he saw Bruce had stopped screaming and turned to go back to his study. Seeing his eldest son standing behind him Bruce quirked his eyebrow and stared in a way that almost felt like a challenge.

“What.” Dick held up his arms in a placating manner.

“I didn’t say anything.” After a moment of staring Bruce turned around. “But, if I did say something, which I’m not, I would say that don’t you think you should go after him?” If possible Bruce’s shoulders tensed further and he spun around.

“He can handle himself.” Dick snorted at this.

“He’s eleven, and he’s about as emotionally stable as Jason on a good day. I’m not saying you have to apologize, but it couldn’t hurt to offer an olive branch.”

“I’m his Father.” Taking a step closer Bruce puffed out his chest like a challenge causing confusion to flood Dick.

“Uh yeah, I’m aware?” Bruce took another step closer.

“I’m his Father Dick, not you.” Dick took in a sharp breath. “I appreciate you stepping up while I was gone, but I don’t need you to tell me how to raise my son. I don’t need you to tell me every time I fail or what I should do differently because he’s my son Dick, _mine_.” With a growl, Bruce stalked back into his study and slammed the door behind him. A hot red flush crawled up Dick’s neck, whether from anger or embarrassment he wasn’t sure. A small throb of pain flashed for a moment and placing a hand over his heart he gingerly rubbed at it. Their relationship had been strained since Bruces returned. It seemed no matter what he did or said Bruce would take it the wrong way. Taking a deep breath Dick turned to the stairway only to see Alfred staring at him with an unidentifiable look on his face.

“If I may Master Richard, I think Master Bruce is more frustrated with himself then with you.” Shaking his head Dick plastered a small smile onto his face in an attempt to seem nonchalant.

“I’ll be fine Alf, but I should go check on Dami. Garden?” Alfred stared at him for a moment before moving up the stairs to Bruce’s office.

“I believe Master Damian is hiding in The Crows Nest, I’m sure I don’t have to remind you where it is.” With a more genuine smile Dick nodded and started bounding down the stairs. The Crows Nest was a small terrace on the eastern roof of the manor the size of a small car. Dick had found it a month or two into his stay at the manor before he had known Bruce was Batman. It was his place to sit and think for a while without distraction. He had shown it to Damian a few months ago when the boy lamented not having a place to meditate in the mornings.

Walking briskly into the gardens Dick gave a brief nod to Tim who was sitting at the patio table tapping away on his tablet, though if the boy noticed him was anyone’s guess. Climbing up the lattice attached to the side of the house he got about halfway up before leaping onto a second-floor window ledge. Bending his knees slightly he jumped forward and caught onto the terrace edge and pulled himself the rest of the way up.

Damian was tucked into the far corner of the terrace head buried into his knees. With a sigh Dick crawled over to him and sat down, placing a gentle hand on Damian’s shoulder. It was a show of how much he had changed that though Damian tensed for a moment at the contact he almost immediately leaned further into Dick’s side.

“Want to talk about it kiddo?” Head still buried, Damian shook his head.

“There is nothing to discuss. He hates me.” Dick let out another sigh wrapping his arms around his brother and pulling him closer.

“Of course he doesn’t hate you Damian.” A moment of silence.

“He said I shouldn’t be Robin anymore.”

“I’m sorry he said _what_?” Damian looked up at the anger in Dick’s voice eyes glistening with tears he was too proud to shed. And for a moment Dick was stricken by how young he looked, _'You're so small.'_ Dick thought as he sent him a small reassuring smile to show that Damian was not the one he was angry at.

“Just now in his office, we were arguing because a teacher from that poor attempt at an educational institute you sent me to, called. She said I was disrespectful but all I did was correct her Grayson. She should not be an educator if she can’t even get basic facts right.” With a gentle nudge, Dick urged Damian to get back to his point. “Father was displeased, said I needed to be better. Said that I shouldn’t be Robin if I couldn’t respect authority.” Anger flashed through Dick as once again a stab of pain hit his heart. It was one thing for Bruce to take out his issues on Dick, he was an adult and could handle it, but Damian shouldn’t have to.

“He won’t take away Robin Dami, I’ll make sure of it.”

“You can’t stop him Grayson, he’s Batman.” Taking Damian’s chin he gently guided it so his brother was looking him in the eyes.

“I’m Batman too. And I promise I won’t let him do that.” After a moment of searching Damian nodded before pulling away from Dick’s grasp. A pink flush started creeping up his neck, Damian always felt embarrassed when he let himself seem vulnerable. Laughing Dick ruffled his brother's hair eliciting a small ‘tsk’ and a half-hearted glare. “Now come on, I think Alfred made a batch of gingerbread cookies for you. Though why you’d want to eat them when it’s not Christmas I’ll never know.” Standing up Damian moved to the edge of the Terrace as though to go down.

“Ginger has healing properties Grayson which is more than I can say about the sugary dredge who choose to devour every morning--” A loud crack filled the air as the ledge of the terrace splintered. For a moment all Dick could see was a surprised look in Damian’s eyes before the ledge crumpled under him.

“DAMIAN!” Without hesitation Dick launched himself towards the edge, barely catching Damians wrist as he did so. The momentum however caused him to fall over and wrapping Damian protectively around his chest he reached out with his left hand to stop their fall. After a moment of grappling and grasping Dick felt his hand close around the lattice, and a large pop filled the air as his shoulder was dislocated from the abrupt drop. Breathing heavily, his heart palpitating painfully in his chest, Dick looked down to see the ground much closer than he expected. Letting go he gently tucked and rolled landing close to the patio table where Tim now stood worriedly.

Dick knew he should look over Damian and make sure he was alright but suddenly all he could feel was a loud throbbing in his chest. It almost felt like he was being stabbed over and over again but that couldn’t be right. Wrapping his arms around him he felt a sharp pain from his shoulder as he put strain on the dislocated arm. His breathing had not calmed from it’s heavy panting and in fact became more strained. Feeling a hand on his shoulder he looked up and took in the distorted image of Tim peering down at him.

“S-something...somet-thing is wrong. I c-can’t.. b-bb-bre-” A wave of nausea washed over him as he struggled to get out the words. And all of a sudden Bruce was in front of him with both hands around Dick’s head. A look of worry slashed through his usual stoic mask.

“Dickie look at me, what’s wrong.” Dick tried to talk but all he could focus on was the stabbing in his chest and the lack of air.

“He said he couldn’t breathe.” Tim piped up from somewhere to Dick’s left.

“Panic attack?” Dick started shaking his head, he knew what a panic attack felt like and this was not one of them.

“M-my chest...it’s l-like s-stabbing...every time m-m-my heart b-beats.” With a sharp inhale Bruce was pushed out of the way and Alfred was kneeling in front of him.

“Master Richard, I need you to focus, is there anything else you’re feeling?” Closing his eyes Dick tried to focus around the ache in his chest.

“D-d-dizzy.” The urge to vomit rolled over him again making Dick tense. “N-n-n-nauseous.” Blinky his eyes open he found that somehow Alfred’s form had gotten more distorted.

“Master Timothy call an ambulance immediately.”

“What, why?”

“Alfred, what’s going on?” Small black spots slowly began to appear in the corner of Dick’s vision from lack of oxygen.

“It appears that Master Richard is having a heart attack”. And that's when Dick passed out.

*************************************

Alfred frowned as he watched Dick run down the stairs. He had hoped that after a month Bruce would get his act together concerning Damian, and frankly all of his charges, but it was clear that he remained as distant as ever. Poor Dick had been running wild trying to ease everyone's transition back to Wayne Manor but even he could only do so much.

Turning towards the study Alfred entered the room without knocking and shut the door gently behind him. Bruce, who was standing at the large window behind his desk, turned when he heard the door click.

“I know I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Mmh?”

“To Dick, I shouldn’t have.. I didn’t mean to offend him… He just… He has it so easy with Damian, he makes it look so easy. Every time I open my mouth Damian looks at me like I killed Titus, and all Dick has to do is smile and-”

“Master Bruce if I may.” Bruce’s mouth automatically snapped shut and a look of surprise colored his face. Alfred very rarely interrupted but when he did you shut up and listen. The butler moved closer to Bruce and gestured for him to take a seat which he did. “I understand your frustrations concerning Master Damian, he has had a hard life and does not always know how to connect with others, something I believe you have in common.” A small bitter snort came out of Bruce but he quieted once more when Alfred gave him a pointed look. “Master Richard has spent over a year with Master Damian teaching him, mentoring him, caring for him. I assure you that year wasn’t easy. It was filled with fights and screaming, and setbacks, and yet both young Master’s persisted. What you see between them took over a year to cultivate so I implore you, do not dismiss either of their hard work.” At this Bruce looked away, a small sliver of shame creeping in him.

“What do I do?” With a smile Alfred began to move back to the door.

“You continue to try Master Bruce, but do not allow your jealousy to ruin your relationship with Master Richard while you try to forge one with Master Damian.” Having said his piece Alfred was just about to open the door when a muffled and panicked shout came from up the stairs.

“PENNYWORTH! FATHER!” In an instant the two men were out of the room and bounding down the stairs. Damian stood at the bottom, his face stoic but his eyes shining with worry. “Something is wrong with Grayson, we fell from the Crows Nest but he caught us, and now he can’t breathe.” A spike of worry ran through Bruce as he followed his son out onto the garden patio. The first thing he saw was Tim kneeling in front of something, when he heard Bruce and Alfred come closer he looked up and stood. Allowing Bruce to see his oldest blankly staring in front of him. Dick’s left arm was hanging lower then his right and Bruce could tell it was dislocated despite being wrapped around Dick’s chest. Dick was panting loudly, his face growing red from exertion. Kneeling Bruce got in front of him and placed his hands on his son’s head guiding Dick to look at him.

“Dickie look at me, what’s wrong.” It was clear that Dick understood the question but instead of answering he groaned and pressed his hand into his chest. Tim stepped back over, anxiously wringing his hands.

“He said he couldn’t breathe.” Bruce furrowed his brow.

“Panic attack?” Could be but it’s didn’t seem right, a sentiment echoed by Dick as he shook his head.

“M-my chest...it’s l-like s-stabbing… every time m-m-my heart b-beats.” With a sharp inhale Bruce felt himself be pushed away by Alfred who was staring at Dick with concealed panic.

“Master Richard, I need you to focus, is there anything else you’re feeling?” Dick closed his eyes as though thinking.

“D-d-dizzy….n-n-n-nauseous.” Something seemed to shift inside Alfred and he sat up even straighter and went to check Dick’s pulse.

“Master Timothy call an ambulance immediately.” Without questioning it Tim pulled out his phone and called 911, Damian stepped up and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“What, why?” The question seemed like a challenge and stepping forward Bruce placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder only to have it shaken off.

“Alfred, what’s going on?” Bruce’s own worry began to grow as Dick’s eyelids began to flutter wildly.

“It appears that Master Richard is having a heart attack.” With those words Dick’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and he began to slide down to the ground. Alfred caught him and gently set him down. Bruce stood blankly not understanding the words out of Alfreds mouth. “Master Damian run inside, quickly, get me smelling salts and aspirin. Both can be found in the downstairs bathroom.” Without hesitation Damian sprinted away, Alfred placed a hand under Dick’s nose to check he was still breathing. “Master Timothy?” Tim stepped forward with the phone to his ear.

“They're on their way, ETA five minutes.” Nodding, Alfred looked up as Damian came running back over to them clutching a bottle of aspirin and the smelling salts. Taking the salts from Damian Alfred broke the package and held it to Dick’s nose. Everything stalled for a moment waiting.

“Why isn’t it working?” Alfred sat up eyebrows furrowed.

“Usually they work in the case of a head injury or fainting, I had hoped that they would also work in the case of a heart attack.”

“He’s not having a heart attack.” Alfred looked up at Bruce an incredulous look on his face.

“Master Bruce-”

“He’s twenty-eight years old, he’s not having a heart attack.” It was said so sternly that no one wanted to argue with him. Alfred pursed his lips in displeasure and turned away. Everyone was quiet for several minutes just staring at the uneven rising and falling of Dick’s chest.

Finally, the sound of an ambulance coming up the drive broke the grimly serene atmosphere. Tim rushed forward yelling to signal where they were.

The next few minutes were a flurry of activity, one moment the two EMTs were running over with a stretcher, the next Dick was being loaded into an ambulance. The only thing that snapped Bruce from his stupor was Damian attempting to climb in after Dick. Grabbing his arm he gently pulled him out of the vehicle.

“No.” Immediately he was met with a murderous glare.

“Grayson is going to need support when he wakes up, he finds my presence soothing.” Gently Bruce guided the boy over to Alfred who placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder. Knowing the boy respected him too much to shake it off.

“I’ll go with him Damian, he will be fine. Alfred will take you two to the hospital.” Damian scoffed at him.

“Please, all you’ll succeed in doing is make Grayson uncomfortable. Half the time you act as though you hate him, forgive me if I don’t trust you with him.” A flare of anger rushed through Bruce at that statement, and he turned around to climb into the back of the ambulance. Almost missing the quiet declaration. of, “I wish it were you instead.” as the ambulance doors shut securely behind him.

*************************************

Three hours, it had been three hours and there still was no news regarding Dick. After they arrived at the hospital Dick was rushed into the emergency room and Bruce was delegated to a private waiting room. Shortly Alfred arrived with the two boys, a disgruntled Damian refusing to look at him. An hour later the girls came in, Steph speedily pushing Barbara’s chair into the room, with Cass trailing quickly after them. Another hour, and in walked Jason who had thankfully left his gun and helmet at home. Then came the waiting.

Frankly, Bruce thought this was ridiculous, he was a top donor at Gotham General. Hell the Thomas Wayne Foundation had bought the hospital a new pediatric wing. And yet three hours had gone by without any updates on his son? Just as he was about to walk out and talk with the nurse a Doctor stepped into the room. She was younger then Bruce but only by a couple of years, dark brown hair was pulled up into a tight ponytail and thick black glasses framed brown eyes. She peered down at the clipboard in her hands before making direct eye contact with Bruce.

“Family of Dick Grayson?” Standing up Bruce made his way over to her.

“That’s us.” Raising an eyebrow she looked over the handful of people in the room who were staring at her intently.

“All of you?”

“Yes all of us, is Dick alright?” If she was upset by Bruce’s sharp tone she didn’t show it, instead she held her clipboard closer to her chest.

“Your son is going to be alright Mr. Wayne, he’s resting now.” A tension was lifted from the room and whoops and laughter rang out behind Bruce. He however had more questions.

“What happened?” The question was quiet but served to refocus the rest of the group.

“Your son experienced a rather strong Stress Cardiomyopathy or a -”

“He had a stress heart attack?” Tim moved closer to the Doctor now standing at Bruce’s side. “It’s also called Broken Heart Syndrome right?” The Doctor looked him over appraisingly.

“Both names are a tad misleading but yes Stress Cardiomyopathy is caused by a large amount of stress putting strain on the heart and takes on the symptoms of an average heart attack. Which leads me to my first question did anything stressful occur before Mr. Grayson’s symptoms?” Tim nodded.

“He and Damian were climbing down from the roof and part of the ledge crumbled causing them to fall. Dick managed to catch them both by grabbing onto the windowsill.” The Doctor nodded writing something down on her clipboard.

“That explains his dislocated left shoulder then. And before then, was Mr. Grayson under a large amount of stress? Usually, there is a catalyst that acts as a fuse for the attack, but it’s not uncommon to have constant stress build and lead into it as well.” Bruce shook his head.

“Not that I’m aware of no.” A loud snort came from behind Bruce as Jason walked over to speak.

“Even you can’t be that obtuse old man.” Turning his attention to the Doctor Jason continued though a tad more respectfully. “He’s had a lot on his plate this year, B here was off finding himself in Paraguay for the last year (read trapped in a timestream) so Dick had to; step up as CEO at Wayne Industries, pretty much raise our younger brother, and took lead on your other _'projects'_. For the last month, he’s been working non-stop to ease Brucie here back into leadership and make sure that the world doesn’t come crumbling around all of us. So yeah, a lot to be stressed about Doc.”

Bruce stared open-mouthed at his son, not only because Jason was actually defending Dick for once, but because of what he had to say. Bruce was aware of what Dick had done while he was gone but hearing them listed out like that sent a jolt of guilt through his gut. He looked up expecting the Doctor to be looking at him in disapproval, but she simply took more notes.

“Yes, I imagine all that would be very stressful. Right. As I stated before he will be fine. In two weeks or so he should be back to how he was before. Stress Cardiomyopathy usually doesn’t have any lingering effects and rarely occurs again. That being said while he recovers he is to be put under zero stress do I make myself clear?” She looked at Bruce at that and he felt himself nodding in agreement, slightly afraid of her intensity. “Good. He is resting now but you can see him for a few minutes, I suggest going in groups.” And with that, she walked out of the room.

Sitting back down on the hard plastic waiting room chair Bruce buried his head into his hands. His son was in a hospital because Bruce had forced him to do too much. Dick was in the hospital because Bruce needed him to constantly clean up his own messes. Dick was suffering because Bruce disappeared for a year and left him to take on his responsibilities. And when he came back he didn’t stop, he told Dick to do things constantly because he depended on his son more than anyone. But he didn’t take into account that Dick needed someone to depend on too. His musings were cut short when a hand laid gently on his shoulder. Looking up he saw Alfred peering down at him in concern.

“It is your turn Master Bruce.” Looking up Bruce saw that the rest of the room was empty. He stood up and Alfred followed him out the door and down the now quiet hall.

“Everyone else?”

“Have seen him. Master Timothy went with Miss Gordon, Miss Cassandra, and Miss Stephanie. Master Jason left shortly after, and Master Damian is still in with Master Dick though I will be taking him home shortly. Am I correct to assume that you will be spending the night here?” Bruce nodded as they came closer to Dicks private room. “Very good.” Moving past Bruce Alfred entered the room and after a moment exited with a very quiet Damian. The anger that had seemed to be permanently fixed on his face was gone and instead were barely noticeable tear tracks. For the first time since coming back, Bruce saw what Dick had been trying to tell him. Damian was just a child, a child who just saw the closest thing to a loving parent he has laying in a hospital bed. Kneeling down before him, Bruce took Damian into his arms and hugged tightly.

“He’s going to be fine, I promise.” Damian, who had tensed initially, relaxed slightly and slowly let his arms encircle Bruce.

“Of course he is.” Came a haughty reply, but Bruce could tell he was somewhat relieved. Standing up he patted Damian gently on the shoulder, sent Alfred a small smile, and quietly walked into the hospital room.

The first thing he noticed was the slow methodical beeping of the machines next to his son's bed, relaxing him with their regularity. The next was a large sling that was wrapped around Dick’s shoulder immobilizing his left arm. Finally, Bruce allowed his gaze to rest on Dick’s face which for the first time in what had to be almost a year was completely free of any furrowing, or wrinkles or scrunching. Instead, it was completely relaxed.

Pulling up the chair next to the bed Bruce sat down and after a moment's hesitation gently grabbed Dick’s hand. For a while he just sat there, but then the silence began to grow uncomfortable. There was something disconcerting about sitting in a room with Dick Grayson and not speaking. Quietly Bruce cleared his throat.

“Hey Chum, gave us quite a scare earlier.” No response, not that Bruce was expecting one. “You’re going to be okay though, the Doctor said it was Stress Cardiomyopathy...Alfred thought it was a heart attack….God... you, you scared me kid.” Reaching up his other hand he brushed back the dark hair falling in front of Dick’s eyes. For a moment he was struck by how young Dick seemed. “God, you’re... You’re so small….You’re so young Dick your twenty-eight and Alfred thought you were having a heart attack… We’ve been putting too much pressure on you, asking too much of you. Taken you for granted, because you’ve always been there. ” Breathing in a stuttering breath Bruce tightened his grip on Dicks hand.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m so proud of you Dickie, how you did at Wayne Industries, how you are as Batman. And with Damian...he’s...you’re good for him. You’re better than me, not that that's saying much lately.” Bruce closed his eyes, softening his voice like he’s telling a secret. “Alfred was right...imagine that… I was jealous of you and him, it seemed so easy and I was getting so mad because he’s my son and it should be easy with me too.” Letting out a deep breath.

“But he’s also your son Dick, there’s no question about it. And instead of arguing with you, instead of giving you more and more work, I should have been thanking you for everything you’ve done… I love you Dickie.” Feeling Dick’s hand twitch in his, Bruce looked up and saw his son’s bright blue eyes blinking up at him through heavy eyelids. It was clear that Dick was struggling to remain awake, but a small smile sat on his lips.

“I love you too Bruce.”


End file.
